The Days of Wine and Roses

Reader, these are magic days... soaking up sunshine, probing the politics of the garden squirrel gangs, conjuring clouds into cats'n'cushions, weaving daisies into dilly-daydreams... and allowing the hours to flit-flutter away so quickly... much-too-much-too-quickly...

Then the evening sunset arrives, performs her alchemy... and diva-like slips away before we can ask for an encore... pulling a cloak of stars around her. Ah yes Reader... and now I have this grabbing urge to rummage into my dusty childhood for that warm wonderful song...

Now how did it go...? Oh yes...

The days of wine and roses,

Laugh and run away,

Like a child at play,

Through a meadowland,

Toward a closing door,

A door marked never more,

That wasn't there before.

The lonely night discloses,

Just a passing breeze,

Filled with memories,

Of the golden smile,

That introduced me to,

The days of wine and roses,

And you!

I pottered around on the Internet today and found a wonderful guitar version of this classic song, which is embedded above. Go on Reader and play it... and then close your eyes and imagine sitting back on your deck chair out in the garden in the evening. Come on then, sit beside me, swirl that wine around your glass and watch the night stir into the sky... Now aren't you awake to how alive you are!

How wonderful... how intense... how exhilarating: this dreamy-delirium so peaceful and yet so intense with a sharp nip of caffeine in the side. Oh okay! Hang the attempt at poetry! That "nip" is probably courtesy of a small family of red ants that have made their nest under my table... and *ouch!* those dastardly critters are now attempting to invade my slipper... Fine... fine ...so be it! ...Time to get indoors!

(FYI: Those who know me best are persistently bewildered that the same riverman~~~ who spent more than two years in the Singapore army feeding leeches and eating fruit bats, is frightened of flying cockroaches, bee stings and red ant bites! It is a measure of my special regard for you Reader, that I make this confession here, to the detriment of any reputation I may still have!)

And as sure as I will continually get chased back into my house by marauding ants that pitch camp under my garden furniture... these Days of Wine and Roses, as glorious and as warm as they are now, will end.

They are not long, the weeping and the laughter,

Love and desire and hate;

I think they have no portion in us after

We pass the gate.

They are not long, the days of wine and roses:

Out of a misty dream

Our path emerges for a while, then closes,

Within a dream.

(1867-1900) (From Vitae Summa Brevis Spem Nos Vetat Incohare Longam)

And in a couple of weeks I will put away the barbecue grill, fold away the patio umbrellas and take down my autumn jacket from the top shelf of my cupboard. But for today, I raise my glass to magnificent summer memories... to "livin' easy... jumpin' fish and cotton so high...." ...and to "lazy-hazy-crazy-red, pink-n-polka-dotted-skies" and the "Slam-Bang-ALA-CA-ZAMMM-of-it-all"!!

Yes Reader - Here's to the Days of Wine and Roses...

Now drink up... don't waste a drop... and then pour us another glass each!

*HIC!!!*

~~~